


Midnight Train

by FoolWithAPen



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mention of past rape/non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-19 07:52:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoolWithAPen/pseuds/FoolWithAPen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers wants to take the train.  Loki has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Train

**Author's Note:**

> Extra special thanks and all the internet yummies to FelicityGS who was kind enough to read this first. Any mistakes are my own.
> 
> Author’s note: There are spoilers here for Thor and the Avengers. Do not try to say I didn’t warn you. Also, angst, references to a past rape, internalized discrimination of many varieties. In short, this story may be trigger-y. Be told.

Steve leaned back in his seat, stretching as much as he was able in the confined space.  This was not nearly as elegant as the movies had always seemed, but he had decided to try an overnight train just so he could tell his younger self that he had done it.  He’d arranged himself so as to allow some freedom of movement, dropping a small bag with his sketchpad and pencils onto the opposite seat, along with the bag containing extra food for the trip.

Tony had had a minor fit, insisting that Steve at least let him pay for a trip on a restored car with all the amenities, but it hadn’t felt... right.  He wasn’t looking for some pretend trip where people wore costumes. He wanted the real deal, and he could pay his own way.  So he’d stuck to his guns and booked a trip on the Capitol Limited from Chicago to Washington, D.C., where he’d planned to help with a fundraiser for returning soldiers.  And afterwards, he’d planned to take the sleek modern train back to New York.  

Chicago had been cathartic.  Peggy’s daughter, Sara, lived there, working as a history professor at the University of Chicago.  She’d shown him photo albums, told him about the life her mother had built after, even about the final fight with brain cancer.  It had been a lot to absorb.  He’d told Sara about her mother’s bravery in the war and satisfied her curiosity about some of the conditions they’d faced.  It was good.  Afterwards, she’d insisted that he couldn’t leave Chicago without seeing the sights and trying the food.  So they’d had stuffed pizza that had to be eaten with a fork, and then gone downtown, where they’d admired architecture, and he’d tried Italian beef and the famous hot dogs. At the train station, he’d smelled the most delicious caramel popcorn and had bought snacks to take with him.

And now, Indiana rolled away past his window.  Evening shadows gathered and he regretted his decision to placate Tony by taking a sleeper cabin.  The hum of movement over the steel rails wasn’t enough - he wanted to be near people.   

Right, the club car, then.  Gathering his sketch pad and a zippered case with pencils, stubs, and erasers, he exited the open door of his room, carefully closing it, and walked through the narrow hallway to the dining car.  

Curiosity warred with politeness as he passed the larger bedrooms, wondering if they were more like the images in his head, but he could easily see personal effects, even from the hallway, and averted his gaze, instead looking at the doorway between the cars.  A large rectangle marked push yielded silently and the doors opened with a loud hiss, rapidly drowned out by the nearly deafening rattle of the train’s movements.  Just as he stepped onto the metal plate, suddenly terrified of falling (falling forever through ice and wind, a voice whispered treacherously at the back of his head), the train hit a bump in the track, forcing him to balance rapidly, press the second rectangle blindly.  Maybe this hadn’t been such a swell idea after all.

He made his way back through the dining car, carefully adjusting for the sway of the train and admiring the sheer grace of the attendants as they served dinner.  As he stepped through the hissing doors once more to the club car, this time without incident, he saw a series of dining tables, mostly taken by young men with beards and young women with stiff headcoverings playing some kind of card game.  Moving past the intent players, he was relieved to see the wider aisle, the bigger chairs, a few still empty, and he slid into a bench meant for two, sighing with relief at the room for his shoulders.  

“Good evening, Captain.”  The low purr was seductive, almost a breath in his ear, and the accent was beautiful.  But something, something familiar, about it raised the hair at the back of his neck.

A moment later, someone slid into the seat beside but at an angle to his bench, a low table supported beween.  Steve looked up at the newcomer and nearly shot out of his seat in surprise.  Loki! Damn, damn, damn, double damn!  Tony was supposed to be bringing the shield down tomorrow, and here he was, facing a supervillain on  a crowded train with nothing but himself.  Warily, Steve watched the trickster as he arranged long limbs and grinned at the captain’s thinly concealed horror.  

Though he had to admit, if he’d been looking for the elegance of  the old movies, the supervillain had certainly captured it in his slim cut black suit, green tie, and neatly styled hair.   A thin, white hand gestured toward the low table between them.  “Refreshments?  I suggest you make yourself comfortable, since we have the whole evening before us.”   Steve noticed then the bottle of wine, the wooden plank with cheeses and accompaniments laid out.

He quirked an eyebrow.  “A snack before destruction?   What next, oatmeal gems before an invasion?”  He’d put little beyond Loki, but this was odd even by the Trickster’s standards, which had to be some kind of record.  And the displeased glint in his eye didn’t bode well.  “Um, look, I’m not sure what it is that you’ve got planned, but I’d be happy to stick with the cheese course.   I even have a few bags with dried fruit back at my seat, if you like.”  

Despite the sickening knot in his gut at the thought of crossing between the trains again, he would steel himself to it in order to keep the would-be king away from as many people as possible.  He tried offering a friendly grin, anything to keep the guy focused on him and not on the train full of innocents.  

Loki ignored  the offer.  “I saw you walking on the Navy Pier and was intrigued.  An Avenger, away from all the others, seemingly unarmed?”  An elegant eyebrow rose.  “Would you have been less curious had our roles been reversed?  Save, of course, that I am never unarmed.” The merest fizz of golden sparkle played about the green eyes.  “And when I’ve just been offered a new toy, how could I resist?”  

The thing about it, the really insanely frightening thing, was that the supervillain’s smile actually reached those golden fizzing green eyes.  He was threatening to kidnap Steve and smiling like a kid at a birthday party.  The soldier moved to stand, but felt every muscle freeze.  “No.  I really cannot allow you to leave, Captain.  Though I do recommend the ash aged goat cheese.”  

He felt the cheese tap against his lip and realized his mouth at least had been freed of the compulsion.  “Let... “ he began, or tried to - his vocal cords didn’t truly engage and as he opened his mouth, the bastard actually popped the food in. The cheese was tangy yet creamy, and he didn’t want to know that.  He struggled to open his lips again, table manners be damned!  But they would not part, his throat muscles instead now able to swallow.

“Hmmm.  I think perhaps I should let you know a few things.  The first is that struggling like this will do you no good.  I think you already know that, but still you try.”  The Trickster’s head tilted, birdlike.  “Thor always did like his boon companions to have a certain.. stubbornness.  Very well.  I will give you leave to speak, though I do not recommend causing a fuss that might cause others to join you in immobility.”

The warning froze the air, even as Steve felt the muscles in his face and throat loosen, and growled.  “Let. Me. Go.”  Each word was carefully, strongly enunciated, pitched low for the villain’s ears alone.  

“No.  Second piece of information: you will attend me this evening.  In return, I will feed you as befits the companion of  royalty.  My wishes are simple.  I want an evening of conversation and good food.”  The trickster selected another piece of cheese from the plank.

Steve’s astonishment was overwhelming.  “Aren’t there dinner clubs for that?  I bet Chicago has dozens.”

“Perhaps, Captain Rogers, you are unclear on the concept of royalty.  I do not simply wish to dine with whomever might choose to walk through the door.  You have been chosen to  entertain a prince, if one currently in exile.  And, quite frankly...”  The Asgardian threw a dismissive glance around the harshly lit car.  “...What better alternative did you have planned?”  

“I had been planning to eat a quiet dinner and meet new people.  You know, ones I haven’t actually met already.”

The prince laughed with evident delight.  “A riposte!  Excellent spirit, but your aim is faulty.  We have not, in fact, properly met.”

“I don’t know about Asgard, but in Brooklyn, we consider a formal introduction kind of beside the point when somebody tries to kill you and your friends.  Oh, and I haven’t even mentioned the small matter of targeting my planet for an alien invasion.  I think we know each other plenty well enough.”

“Again, while I certainly admire the spirit behind your words, they have missed their mark.  I have made no attempt on your life, nor on that of any of your friends.”

Bitter and angry, “Coulson.”

Loki smiled.  “Precisely.  You know, if you like, I have his cell number.  He was, after all, the one who came closest to guessing my plan.  He alone realized the thin veneer of my conviction.  Of course, even that was not quite enough, and he drew some... erronious conclusions, but if his voice will convince you...”  A dark green slim-line smartphone slid  into the long fingers.

Steve briefly wondered how it was that someone from a different planet was so comfortable with modern Earth technology, especially when it took mere seconds to have a picture of Agent Coulson appear on the small screen and Loki’s thumb hovered patiently over the green bar.  At last, he gathered enough of himself to say, “No, not yet, but I’ll be having a talk with some people soon.”  His jaw ached with tension and repressed anger.  How dare Fury treat them like puppets?

Finally, he sighed.  “Okay, look.  All the fortuneteller act does is make me angry.  Not that you aren’t really good at that, but if you’re going to defend yourself, just do it already.  I assume that’s what all the little comments were about.  So just how is it that you are innocent of invading Earth?  And remember, I was there.  I saw you.”

A perfect eyebrow rose.  “You saw the performance of an immortal lifetime.  Think for a moment.  I am obviously familiar with your world.  Thor can’t open his mouth without sounding alien.  I speak with an accent of Midgard.  While Thor was still learning not to smash coffee cups, I was correctly selecting an appropriate suit and tie in which to infiltrate a secret government base.  Can you take him to a baseball game without instigating a riot?  I can attend opera without a single raised eyebrow, and even know the correct timing for a momentous entrance during intermission.”

Steve had to admit, at least to himself that he hadn’t given much thought to any of this.  At the time, he’d been too busy fighting a deranged alien who thought he was a god to give much thought to the finer points of correct eveningwear.  And no, Thor wasn’t exactly... inconspicuous, while Loki had seemed a little more able to interpret the world of mortals.

Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because the alien prince smirked.  “Earth is toward the center of Yggdrasil’s branching pathways.  That is why Asgardians call it Midgard.  I have long explored those secret ways, and have frequently visited here.  I am perhaps overly fond of some things... confections, tapas and small plates, opera, the sheer variety found here.”

Long arms spread wide with the enumeration.  Steve remained unimpressed.  “So you were so in love with us you had to smash us like an ant under a boot?  If I buy that one, I’m sure you’ll have a bridge to sell me.  Even if Phil is alive, you put a mind-whammy on Clint.  You led the Chitauri here.  You tried to kill Thor.  Again.  When I first met you, you were getting ready to kill a defenseless old man as an example.”

Loki scowled, and his voice became silken.  “What a pity, then, that I was so very careless as to stand in front of a camera that SHIELD had access to.  I certainly couldn’t have known it was there with Agent Barton telling me the rest of everyone’s secrets.  What a pity I accidentally stood just... so.”  He turned in exact imitation of the pose Steve remembered from the security tapes the fleeting smile glowing in the severe face for just an instant.  “I certainly could not have meant for you to find me and take me prisoner.”

Steve had had enough.  “Oh, I believe you meant to be taken prisoner, all right, so you could wreck the helicarrier, turn us all on one another, and just in general be twistier than a corkscrew!”

Loki’s flash of frozen anger had disappeared as rapidly as it had appeared, hidden behind the same princely mask they’d all hated so much on the helicarrier.  “Isn’t it amazing that someone as incompetent as that ever managed to get my reputation for cunning?  I gave you time and warning enough to gather and to fight me.  I left clues everywhere.  And as for the Chitauri, it wasn’t my interference that brought them here.  It was the Tesseract.  They’d been headed in this direction for about seventy years.”

Steve would have been much happier if that number hadn’t fit so well with what he already knew of the Tesseract.  Much, much happier.  But he was not about to simply concede the field.  “Clint.  Thor.”

The prince turned to watch as darkness unrolled past the large windows that curled up to the roof.   Dark lashes fanned down to hide the expression in those forest green eyes.  “My relationship with Thor has not always been... happy.  He has done much to me, and I have done some things of which I am not always proud.  But these things are not easily reckoned by mortals and I warn you not to interfere with what you do not understand.”  True anger, swift and hot, lurked in the chilling depths of Loki’s gaze when it returned from the window.

Quickly, the look turned sly.  “If you care to brave his reaction, you might ask Thor whether my aim is usually so poor when I use knives.  If you feel exceptionally brave, ask him about our battle on Jotunheim.  My body count was lower, but then, I did not try to strike the ground from beneath the feet of all, friend and enemy alike.  I did strike all I targeted.”

The supersoldier wondered what had created the animosity that Loki harbored toward his brother, what twisted hate had festered into this implacable rage.  Thor seemed to mourn constantly for the loss of his brother, but Loki refused even to call him a relative.  He didn’t even seem to think stabbing Thor had been a big deal.

“As for Barton, I admit, I used him.  As a tool to prevent the victory of the Chitauri.  Did your Director Fury do less with any of you?  Part of the reason I have Agent Coulson on my contact list is to consult with him on how best to explain this to Barton.”

Silence unrolled between them as the train moved on through the night.  The card players pulled out a basket and began sharing sandwiches and drinking from bottles of juice.  Others came from the dining car, headed back to their seats, but the car had grown quieter than it had been.  

Steve couldn’t let go of the idea that Loki’s desire to justify himself must be part of a wish to turn himself around, to be on the right side for once.  The thought cycled in his mind, gaining momentum.  Maybe it was even the impetus, however weird, for this strange kidnapping.  Maybe this was his opportunity to help turn a supervillain into a good guy.

As though catching the echo of his thoughts, Loki looked up and asked pensively, “How many planets does one expose to war in order to become a hero?  How many wars does one stop on the path to villainhood?”  Long lashes fanned down yet again, as the hands twisted together, giving the prince the look of a saint in a Renaissance tryptich.  Steve wondered if he frequently allowed his beauty to stand in for innocence.

Loki turned again to the window as the train let out a low, lonely whistle.  “Or maybe a hero  isn’t something you can become if you’re born, or destined to be a monster.”  Steve barely caught the muttered words above the shaking rumble of the wheels against rails, the call of the whistle.

“Hey, now, that can’t be true.  Look at me.  I wasn’t supposed to be a hero.  I was just some Irish kid from Brooklyn, then an orphan - and sickly, asthmatic, a mess.  I tried to enlist five times.  They wouldn’t have me any of those times, even though the country was desperate for soldiers.  But Doctor Erskine gave me a chance, and I was able to help.”  And let the Trickster think about that definition of a hero, let him think about helping for a change.

The train was slowing as they pulled into some small station.  The card players had finished their dinner and slowly made their way back toward the coach cars, quietly chatting in German.  A few stragglers remained: a young woman tapping away on a laptop, a couple sharing whispers over the remains of a small bottle of wine, a pair of railfans comparing notes on the journies they had taken.  But for all there were others present, Steve and Loki might as well have been on a deserted island for all the notice they garnered.

The wine bottle reminded Steve of the abandoned cheese plate and suddenly, he was ravenous.  “Um, I think we missed dinner.  If the cheese is still open, I’m kind of hungry.  I could buy a few burgers downstairs if we want...”  As he shifted his feet, he noticed the paralysis was gone but knew it could return at any moment if the Trickster once more willed it.

The prince waved a hand carelessly, replacing the cheese plate with two platters of ravioli in cream sauce, a basket of bread, and a pair of tiny cups, each filled with butter speckled in black.  “Asparagus and artichoke ravioli in a fontina cream sauce with truffled butter.  I told you, I will feed you as befits a companion of royalty.  When you are ready for another course, you need only speak.”  The long hands were now busy pouring wine.

For the length of the stop and a little longer, they ate quietly until Loki decided it was time for more food.  Another wave of the hand produced first a pair of cups with a scoop apiece of ginger lime sorbet, then some complicated meat dish with shaved vegetables and a rich gravy that set them off wonderfully.  As the meal progressed, course following course, the silence grew more comfortable.  

But Steve was curious.  “So, um, the food.  Do you just... I don’t know, magic up some food when you want it, or what?”

“I could, but the energy required would make it a losing proposition.  I might starve to death on such a feast.  No, I am not without the means to obtain appropriate sustenance, and simply transport it as necessary.”  But it was obvious his mind was elsewhere, the rich voice replying absently, the green eyes smoked over with thought.

A voice announced that the snack bar was closing, and Steve looked around once more.  Even the stragglers seemed to have headed off to sleep or to their destination.  A weary looking attendant came up the stairs and headed back toward the sleeper cars.  Her passage seemed to wake the trickster from his reverie.

A gesture cleared their latest course, some sort of savory tart, highly flavored with herbs, and replaced it with two ramekins of creme brulee, the crust shiny and crisp.  As they tapped the dessert with their spoons, Loki turned once more to Steve, the spoon half-forgotten in his hand.  “I used  to wish that I  might some day do something great, something to prove myself worthy.”

Steve knew that feeling, but it didn’t stop him from making a grevious mistake.  “Like your brother?”  He didn’t need the fierce glare to know these had been the wrong words even as they left his mouth.  “I’m sorry.  I meant -”

“You meant Thor is a hero and I am not.  No!  Just listen.”  He thrust forward his own untasted dessert.  “Have it.  I want you to listen without interruption, so perhaps having something to keep your mouth busy will help.  I only wished to be like Thor as a child.  As I grew, I started to notice things.  Things like Thor’s temper, his rashness, his ignorance of others.  I tried to justify them as royal pride, but it became clear to me that when he took  the throne, Asgard would be in a state of perpetual war.

“I spent centuries preventing wars, smoothing over difficulties, trying to save Thor from himself.  I failed.  I do not want to be a hero like him, only happy when smashing things.  I want to be a hero like me, preventing things from reaching that point, and truly ensuring that those I guard are kept safe if it must come to violence.”  He had plucked a thick pottery goblet of some golden beverage from the air.  It steamed softly in his hands.

How many planets does one expose to war in order to become a hero?  How many wars does one stop on the path to villainhood? The words suddenly echoed back to Steve with merciless precision.

“I’ve learned since then that none of that will ever render me a hero.  I will always be the monster I was born.”  He stared a long moment into his cup before sighing.  “Sleipnir is a classic example.  I trust you know the story as it is usually told?”

The Captain blushed a fiery red at the interrogatory glance the prince sent him.  A tight, bitter look accompanied the next words.  “It is false. I have no children.  Thor had been accepted for weapons training and had been given a feast in his honor.  I was allowed to attend for a part, then sent back to the nursery.  I wanted everyone to see how far I had come in my studies, see that I was no longer a baby to be allowed only to peek through the balcony railing.  I couldn’t know at the time I was only digging myself deeper.”

Steve had let the ramekin drop to his lap, forgotten, but Loki scowled at him.  “Eat the pudding.  It’s my favorite and I’d rather it wasn’t wasted.  The crispness of the topping will soften if you don’t eat.”  He took a swallow from the goblet and continued.

“Sleipnir was the most perfect colt I had ever seen.  Even as a child, I had a reputation for knowing good horses and for treating my mounts well.  So the merchant from Vanaheim had no hesitation in selling him along with his dam to me.  I took him the moment he was weaned and fed him a special diet for a year and a day, working a complicated spell, making a gift for Odin.  I am the youngest sorcerer ever to have succeeded at that spell.”  The brilliant eyes clouded over.  “I know now I was only meticulously, carefully proving my own ergi.”

“Ergi?”

“You would say perhaps ‘unmanliness’.  I might as well have actually had sex with a horse as far as the court was concerned.  I was a mere stripling, a child, yet I was judged depraved for being good at magic.  My - Odin accepted the present, but tried to cover over my achievement to protect my reputation.  And so, in the shadows, the words grew more vicious, branding me inherently the lesser prince, the not-warrior.”

“Whoa, whoa, hey there, Not a warrior?  I’m not happy with your decisions, but you, you pack a punch.  I got thrown halfway across that square in Germany, remember?  How the hell does that equate to not a warrior?”  

An inscrutable look cut across the Trickster’s face as he said flatly, “Some people are warriors.  Others only do tricks.”

Steve’s hands came up in a placating gesture.  “Okay, slow down.  I’ve never been to Asgard, right?  So I won’t know a lot that seems obvious to you.  That sounded like a quote.  Who said that, and when?  I mean, you do a lot with your magic and you said yourself that Odin covered over what you did, so maybe they were just ignorant of what you can do.”  

The swift assessing glance Loki ran over him was terrifyingly cold.  There was also a flash of... something in the Trickster’s eyes, gone as quickly as it appeared.  “The words of a warrior, a hero, unconscionably indebted to an argr monster.”

“Argr?  Is that like ergi?”  Steve felt lost in the depths of Asgardian culture, but whatever this was, however hard it might be to grasp, this was vitally important.

The smooth mask of quiet amusement was firmly back in place as Loki spoke again.  “Argr is the descriptive for something like me.  Not really a man, because I’m too much like a woman, am I not?  I practice my tricks so I must be like a woman in other ways, also, no?  Wouldn’t you like to feel powerful by humiliating a prince?  Would that make someone even more of a man?”

The captain was quiet, firm as he replied, “No,  it would only make them a bully.  Bullies aren’t heroes or better men.  And you said indebted earlier, I think.  It would also make them ungrateful.”

The practiced look of superior amusement remained.  “Oh, but my  dear Captain Rogers, why should he have been grateful?  I spared him and his friends from a glorious death on the field of battle against vastly superior numbers through my vile sorcery.  Ought they not rather have cursed my name for drawing a veil of fog over the enemy forces?  Their glory was surely dimmed by my ergi.”  He paused a moment, appearing to think about the problem.  “Of course, the enemy might not have been so kind as to have merely killed them.  After all, Asgardian forces had rendered one of their princes an argr nithing.  They might have sought to  return the favor.  But then, is it better to be made forcibly argr by an enemy one has lost to, or to court that status through association with a sorcerer?”  He tapped a long finger against his chin, apparently trying to solve the conundrum he’d presented.

What kind of idiot wouldn’t want to be protected from - oh, no.  Oh, shit!  “Um, prince made forcibly argr?  Asgardians raped their prince?”  The blond eyebrows rose sharply.

Blandly.  “On the battlefield.  Before the defeated army.  The theory was that this would confirm their status as slaves beneath the heel of Asgard.  The reality was that he became a martyr, inciting a wider uprising.”

“And... ‘returned the favor’.  You don’t mean you, do you?”  Steve had a sudden, sickening confidence about this story.  “You mean Thor.  You saved Thor from being captured and raped and he said... that.”  Another thought rose up to choke him.  “Um, the other prince...”

“His name was Frey.  I quite liked him when we met at occasional diplomatic functions. I was, in  fact, meeting with his brother to discuss a possible diplomatic resolution to the dispute when everything happened.  It was Thor’s commander in his absence who committed the rape, but the responsibility...”  His voice trailed off into  silence.

“Thor should have had a better officer for that command.  I’d have demoted both of them to saluting the KP bastards.”  The words were forced past the constricting lump in Steve’s throat.  He was not the innocent everyone seemed to assume when they interviewed him.  For pity’s sake, he’d conducted irregular warfare in the European theater of WWII!  He’d seen enough of the aftereffects of rape for a lifetime and was sickened to realize it had happened under Thor’s command.

The supersoldier was so caught up in his own disgust that he failed to notice Loki had fallen silent, looking astonished.  “The responsibility was held to be mine.  I should have stayed in  camp while Thor took his friends out hunting, rather than count on one of Thor’s glory-hungry warriors  to resist the  possibility of a complete victory, when we had the Aelfar driven against the ropes.  The fact that Thor left after I did was irrelevant.  He should have been meeting and I should have stopped the attack.”

The astonished look was now on the captain’s face.  He held up a hand to stop the story, while his other hand pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Wait.   Whose command was it, yours or your brother’s?  And if it was yours, why are you saying it was one of Thor’s commanders?  But if it was Thor’s, why were you doing the negotiating and ...”  He couldn’t continue, overwhelmed by the contradictions.  

“Oh, it was Thor’s command, of course, and I was doing the negotiating because he didn’t want to that day,  He is the Crown Prince, after all.  I was merely the second, younger, and though I didn’t know at the time, adopted.”  He grimaced wryly.  “I was given responsibility for advising Thor, but no authority over him.  So when he came to me that morning insisting that I would make the better diplomat, that negotiations would go better without him also present, I allowed my pride to overcome my judgement.  Thor went out hunting with his closest friends within an hour of my departure.”

Loki smiled, engaging and seemingly sincere.  “I’ve had to wonder since then whether it was deliberate, leaving the camp in the charge of Ullr.  He was particularly eager for victory at arms, believing that this was his route to closer friendship with Thor, and Thor covets glory.  We were so close to the end of negotiations, too.  Their slightly weaker military position had been key to concession after concession.”  

He sighed and Steve wondered whether the soldier had been the only one to hope to build a reputation at the time.  Perhaps a successful treaty could have gotten the second prince the positive attention he craved.   “But every time I wonder if Thor could have taken us deliberately out of camp to allow Ullr to do what he knew Odin would not like, I come to the same conclusion:  Thor is too straightforward to pull off a trick like that.”  

The prince frowned in thought and continued.  “Deliberate or not, it ruined all the careful planning and negotiation, of course.  Aelfar who had sat out the fight when it was a matter of  trade concessions suddenly saw a larger purpose.  There were no more meetings, despite the fact that I freed the prince the moment I arrived in camp and myself escorted him to his brother.  The next dark night, we were attacked by overwhelming force. I heard that they had captured Ullr and were hunting Thor.  So I saved what was left of us by drawing in a cloak of fog and darkness to cover our retreat to the Bifrost site.”

The jade eyes held some undefined emotion, even as the rest of the face was blank.  “The next morning, Heimdall recovered Ullr’s body, which had been left on the Bifrost site.  He had been raped and tortured to death.  As for the war, Asgard lost it.  Asgardians are now forbidden to set foot on Aelfheim.”

Steve leaned forward.  “So you don’t know what happened to your friend, Prince..”

Loki interrupted.  “Frey is much recovered these days.  It was a surprise to find out, on Vanaheim, that I am not blamed on Aelfheim.  When I was stripped of my rank and Asgardian citizenship for my many crimes, primarily taking the Tesseract and not giving it to Thor right away, I escaped my prison quickly and went to the Vanir, where I am friends with  their Crown Prince, Hoenir.  I saw Frey there and he invited me to Aelfheim.  Instead, I came to Earth, but perhaps later I will go again to Aelfheim to help them annoy Asgard.”

The soldier threw up his hands, exasperated.  “That was your punishment for waging war on our planet?  You don’t get to be prince anymore.  What was your punishment for losing the other war, no dessert for a week?”  

The former prince gave him a superior glance.  “I was not punished for making war on your planet.  I was punished for treason to Asgard, and I believe the idea behind making me a commoner was to humiliate.  But stripping me of my rank first was a mistake.  The cells intended for royalty have better magical shielding.  In the end, I served less than two hours of my sentence.  My punishment for Aelfheim was theoretically milder, but actually carried out, so there is that.  I was beaten 40 strokes with a rod.”

For something that had been his brother’s fault, Steve reflected.  Here was at least part of the puzzle as to why Loki resented Thor so much.  And the matter-of-fact  recounting argued that this was  not an isolated incident.

Loki shook his head.  “But we’ve wandered away from the topic.  Frey was not rendered nithing - a thrall, a slave, as would have happened on Asgard.  The Aelfar do not consider women to be inherently less capable, and do not consider it shameful for a man to be in some way like a woman.  They were infuriated by the rape as an act of violence, particularly while negotiations were being conducted, but it did not render their prince less of a man.”

Steve suddenly began to understand the full implications of Loki’s earlier  statements.  “So when you say argr means womanly or unmanly, you mean that on Asgard, such a person is considered a slave.”  A long whistle interrupted, followed by the loud passage of a freight train on the other track.  The former prince nodded, his face impassive.

When it was quiet enough to resume conversation, Loki elaborated.   “A woman is considered to have no other choice, so it is not so shameful for a woman to learn magic or to be the receptive partner in sex.  Even for a woman to take the part of a man is somewhat shameful, but not so shameful as the reverse.  The Lady Sif, whom Thor was to have married before his dallience on Midgard, is a warrior and will have nothing to  do with  other women, save the queen, for fear of tainting herself with their weakness.  She has long scorned me for my ergi.”

A blunt hand came up, threading itself into blonde hair.  “But you were a prince.  Isn’t there some way you could punish  the people who called you names?”

The amused look was back, masking any emotion that might have otherwise been  revealed.  “A commoner or even a noble could more easily do so, because he could chooose someone who said such a thing and challenge them to holmgang - a fight to the death.  The one who was killed would not be entitled to a wergeld - a death payment, in such a case.  A prince does not easily challenge to holmgang because his life does not belong to him, but to the state.”

Steve shook his head wearily.  “No.  I mean, if they say something like that, accusing you of being a slave, isn’t that treason?”

The thin lips twisted.  “Yes, if it’s said in a way that can be pinned down.  Whispered insinuations are beneath the dignity or notice of a prince.  But even Thor’s thinking was shaped by those insinuations in the end.  No one in Asgard believes me a true man, and thus when Odin took my status, he was merely confirming what everyone knew anyway.  After that, it didn’t really matter if I left the cell.  As a not-man with  presumably unnatural lusts, who would shelter me as anything other than a slave? And Thor believes the worst of me along with the rest.”

“Didn’t you say the Aelfar?"  Blue eyes sought confirmation from green, and at the nod, continued.  “Aelfar don’t have a problem with Frey, and he invited you to come with him?”  Another nod, cautious.  “Um, why Earth then?  Why not with the Aelfar who will keep Asgardians out?  Won’t Thor just take you back to Asgard if he catches you?” Thickly muscled arms came forward to rest on the powerful thighs as the supersoldier leaned forward to catch the answer.

The cold, princely mask was back.  “I am here for the same reason I was before.  To ensure the Chitauri do not win Midgard.”  A thin, cold smile did not quite reach the gleaming shards of green sea-ice eyes.  “No, that was a lie.  Last time, I didn’t want them to have Asgard, either.  But now, they are welcome to it, so long as they stay there.”  A silent, mirthless laugh shook the Trickster.  “After all, I’m no prince, no hero.  Let Thor look to protecting his own.  I’ve done with it.”

Steve decided that Loki would have to have a chance to tell his story  his way if the captain was to make heads or tails of the various problems before him.  “Okay, you said that before, that you weren’t leading the Chitauri.  So what were you doing?”

Green eyes danced.  “Are you ready to listen then?”  This time, it was Steve who nodded.  “Well, then, listen carefully.  I did lead the Chitauri, right into a trap I had made as carefully as I could while adapting on my feet.  I slowed down my plans to allow you to catch me in Germany.  I used Stark Tower as the landing site.  I had been spying on SHIELD for months, and had chosen Coulson as my pseudo-martyr well before he found me taunting Thor.”

The captain was suddenly reminded of his own words during the invasion. Without him, these things could run wild. Oh, god, what a different meaning they had now.  “So you let us capture you in the hopes that we would form a team?”

“No.  I let you capture me so I could lay a geas, a... compulsion, on all of you to defeat the small part of the Chitauri army that could come through the wormhole.  Unfortunately, the rest of the army is out there, and my scrying says it’s still coming.”  Loki’s face was set as he stared out into the inky blackness beyond the train.  He made a gesture, a flick of the fingers at the large window, and suddenly Steve also saw the fleet hovering in the emptiness of space.  “I had hoped that my act would have left them blaming me, not you.  But they’ve passed the point where they should have turned for  Asgard, where I was at the time, where the Tesseract still is.  So they’re coming here, and I intend to stop them.  Again.”  Another flick of the fingers and the image was gone.

“Does your brother know?  Have you told him?”

Loki tilted his head to the side, the sharp cold eyes focused with their devastating intelligence on the captain.  “And why would he believe me?  Am I not the silvertongued liar, the argr thrall masquerading as a prince, the monster who wished once to be the hero?  No, I’m no brother of his.  Even he realized it at the end.  The gag, the manacles?  They were designed to hold in the magic of one such as myself, and to be painful while they did so.  Those were used after the Aesir-Jotnar war to parade captive sorcerers.”

Silence descended between them, even as the train rolled to a stop.  A uniformed conductor passed through, ignoring the two men staring out the window as another freight train passed them by.

At long last, the train resumed its motion, and as though some spell had broken, Loki spoke again.  “You reminded me that you have never been to Asgard.  Nor have you ever been a prince.”  He huffed a small sigh.  “Your celebrity is perhaps a small taste of it.  Nothing is private in a palace, and a prince’s schedule is very busy in all the most public ways.  I started my days in the council chambers, taking breakfast with Odin and Thor, listening while Odin spoke and Thor ate.  After that, was weapons practice - Thor can use other weapons, and is quite skilled at them, though his precision with lighter forms such as throwing knife or short sword is lacking.”

Steve was surprised.  Thor did not often speak of Asgard, and he had not truly thought of the life he must lead there, nor of how much time the brothers must have spent together.  But of course they must have.  They must have once been even closer than he had been with the Howling Commandos.

“I, too, have some skill, but with the wrong weapons.  I am precise with my throwing knives, deadly with staves, and my sorcery well-honed; but these are the weapons of peasants and women, and without honour.” The thin, mobile lips twisted.  “And all of that might still have been passed over if I had not, like an idiot, once while drinking after a successful adventure on Vanaheim, made a comment that Thor interpreted to mean that I had desired a comrade of ours.   Fandral laughed it off, but that night, Thor beat me bloody, saying I shamed us both.”

Steve felt sick.  He knew how things had been when he was younger, but it was a different world now.  He’d read the news stories talking about the breaking down of barriers in the military, for different races, for women, and now even for gays.  It had made him proud to wear his uniform.  To find out that one of the men he fought beside now would... He shut his eyes against the heartache of that thought.

At last, he found his voice, if not the courage immediately to open his eyes.  “Thank you.”  When there was no immediate answer to that, he forced his eyes open to look at the dark, slim figure seated so near.  Loki had turned in the silence to watch an abandoned factory slide past in the night, but as the blue eyes opened, he turned the devastating brilliance of his gaze on the supersoldier.

“I did not expect thanks for a recounting of ‘imagined slights’, Captain Rogers.  For what, precisely, are you thanking me?”

A deep breath, released almost on a sigh.  “For letting me know there are parts of my life your brother shouldn’t hear about.”  Steve once again briefly pressed his eyes closed.  Stupid!  If anyone in the universe would be more likely to turn that confession into a weapon against him, Steve couldn't imagine who that might be.  When he opened his eyes again, though, Loki was simply staring at him, mouth agape.

At long last, he spoke.  “You?” in accents of such profound disbelief that Steve lost his temper.

“Yes, me, damn it!”  Some small corner of sanity, free from the red mist of fury  that consumed him was grateful no one else was present.  Captain America losing his temper was bad enough, but he’d seen enough of the celebrity coverage these days to know what the magazines would do with the revelation that he might be anything other than one hundred percent heterosexual.  

“Yes, Captain Apple Pie, Baseball, and Fireworks on the Fourth of July has slept with other men!”  He could barely see through the choking cloud of bitter anger, but glimpsed the emerald eyes round with shock.  “And I enjoyed it, too!”  Taking a deep breath, he felt the snarl on his face, the hands bunched into fists.  “I’m allowed, too, you know.  It’s not just everybody else that gets to be happy.  I could find someone, and it shouldn’t matter.”  

Suddenly, he was shaking, his stomach twisting as he heard the last words slip free, open in the night.   “I don’t know why, but it’s never been that big a deal to me: male, female, I honestly wouldn’t care if there were some other  configuration if I loved someone, if I wanted them.”

Loki silently watched as the blonde fought down the fierce anger, as hands slowly unclenched, trembling stilled.  The blue eyes narrowed in a challenging glare.  “So there it is.  Captain America is just another lowly mortal, probably even more disgusting than the rest of us ants beneath you.”  

And oh, how much harder this confession was, looking at the beautiful bones in that strong face, the dark brows slashed across the porcelain perfection, the thin pink lips pursed in thought, those jade eyes watching him make an idiot of himself.  Oh, how much harder when he suddenly wanted to run a finger over those impossible cheekbones, trace the sharp line of that jaw, taste the creamy perfection of that skin.  Right.  Yet another reason that telling Loki had to be one of the stupidest things he’d ever done.

But Loki simply sat watching him with wide eyes, apparently oblivious to Steve’s sudden and embarrassing mood shift.  The former prince blinked, then seemed to reach some internal decision.  Before Steve could decide what that look meant, long fingers were softly caressing his shoulder, as the other hand came up to cup his jaw and suddenly Loki was kissing him.

Steve sat in shock for a moment, feeling the hand on his shoulder dig in more deeply, the one cupping his jaw slide back to brush the neatly clipped hair at the back of his head.  The position was awkward, both of them too large for this in the confined space, the seats just too far apart to support them, and the movement of the train once more intruding on his consciousness.  But all of that paled before the sensation of those strong hands on him, those lips on his.  

He raised his own hands to settle them on the slim hips beneath the suit jacket, steadying Loki, holding him firmly, tasting skin and warmth under the lingering sweetness of his drink.  One hand drifted down, caressing the thigh before tugging it forward, to rest the knee on the thin seatcushion.   He broke the kiss then, still holding firmly to the fine black wool and cool white linen shirt.  Dropping his head to the crook between shoulder and neck, he asked “Not that I’m objecting, but what was that about?”

Loki froze in place, sudden tension banding the muscles under Steve’s hands.  The supersoldier knew he didn’t have a chance if Loki objected to being manhandled like this, but tugged the Trickster into his lap anyway.  “It’s okay, it’s okay.  I just... what is it you want?”  One hand came up to trace small circles at the top of the shoulders, just below the thick ink black hair.

“You said...” Loki took a deep breath.  “You said it wouldn’t matter to you if you wanted someone what configuration they might have.  I... I have worn a glamour all my life to hide the monster I really am, and the idea that someone might really consider...”  He broke off.  “But it’s nonsense anyway.  You also said if you loved, if you desired.  Sentiment.”  Unspoken, but nearly palpable in the air were the words not me.

Steve had reached a decision, possibly the most idiotic one in his life, certainly even worse than telling Loki of all people about that part of his life.  “Show me.”  His voice was suddenly husky, his throat dry.  “Show me what’s underneath.  Let me hold your true form.”

“You might be hurt.  I don’t know... When Thor took me to Jotunheim, the Jotnar could freeze flesh with a touch.  I don’t know if it was intentional or simply part of being a Jotun, a frost giant.”

“I’m going to sound as reckless as Tony, I guess, but I trust you to help me if you hurt me unintentionally.  And I heal fast.  So stop stalling and show me already.”  He softened the order by leaning forward to plant a light kiss on the shaking shoulder before him.

The change started in his hands, as they turned a deep blue, raised whorls appearing in the wake of the color as it crept over him, blushing up into the cheeks and across the face.  While Loki felt considerably cooler than he had in his Asgardian form, there was not even a hint of frostbite, so Steve reached up and traced the curves that dipped over his forehead.  “It’s like a crown here, only going down instead of up.”  He could hear the wonder in his own voice, the appreciation for the beauty of this form which was certainly not monstrous.  Even the blood-red eyes were appealing when he could see that deep intelligence gazing through them.

And so he did the only thing he could think of in that moment and leaned forward to kiss the Jotun on his lap.  The tiny sane voice in his head reminded him that this was Loki and that he might come to regret this, but he resolutely ignored it.  He’d been alive for so many years that he hadn’t truly lived.  Now that he had the chance, he’d take a few risks.

Loki stiffened a moment at the touch of his lips, then relaxed into the embrace as Steve’s free hand cupped his jaw.  The touch of these lips was like mint ribbon candy, the captain decided, cool and sweet, leaving him hungry for more.  Threading his fingers into the lush black hair, he deepened the kiss, feeling Loki’s surprise beneath his lips.  

The long, powerful hands framed his face, smoothed up into his hair, traced the shape of his ear while he shivered.  As they broke apart to breathe once more, Steve noticed that Loki had to slouch uncomfortably to keep this contact and, not to put too fine a point on it, but he was no lightweight, either.  He meant to ask if they should switch positions, if - he blushed just a little - they should find his room to avoid being caught.

But he was not the first to speak.  The blue receded before a wash of ivory and pink.  Because Loki’s eyes were closed, Steve didn’t know the exact moment that ice green  drowned out the brilliant red.  Opening sensation-fogged eyes, Loki dropped his forehead to rest on Steve’s.  “Why?”

Steve sought out eye contact before he even tried to answer.  “I don’t know.”  He felt the tension returning to the body draped over his and hurried to continue.  “A little because you’re so amazingly beautiful.  I could look at you, touch you all day.  I want to draw you, show everyone who’s ever slighted you that look you get when you’re lost in thought, because how could they not see?”

And because he was trying to be honest with both of them, but knew he couldn’t continue feeling so exposed, he closed his eyes.  “A little because that hasn’t happened for me in seventy years, because I just met the daughter of a woman I once desired and she looks older than I do.  And a lot because I wanted to, want to.”  His eyes opened to look again at Loki, who still looked confused.  

“But... you saw, the red eyes... In Asgard, it is said that Jotun eyes are red from bloodlust.  Jotnar are the monsters that take away children who misbehave.  Even my - even Odin used to tell us stories of the wars between Jotunheim and Asgard.  It was always the Jotnar who began the aggression in the stories I heard as a child.”

Steve found himself resettling the Jotun next to him on the bench, wrapping his own arms around the surprisingly broad shoulders.  “I’m sorry.  It’s just... my feet were going numb.”  He offered a small smile, an almost chaste kiss to the invitingly close shoulder.  

“But you probably don’t know what I meant when I said I grew up Irish.  We were called lazy drunkards.  Prohibition was partly about imposing morals on violent, stupid Irish so we wouldn’t mess up America the way we supposedly messed up Ireland.  Only, I read some of the actual history.  The English made war on Ireland all the time, but they were stronger, so they wrote most of the history books.  Maybe that’s what happened with Jotunheim, too.  Have you been there without Thor or Odin along?  It might be different.”

That lithe body again stiffened.  “I was there when Thor almost started another war.  I killed... many Jotnar.  Both before and after I knew... the truth about my parentage.  I  thought I could prove to, to Odin that I was a worthy son, the equal of Thor.  I doubt they would welcome me.”  After a moment, he buried his head in Steve’s neck and whispered the last part of his confession.  “I killed their king to stop him from ever attacking Asgard again.  He was... my sire.”

Steve hesitated a moment, then tugged Loki close, until he was resting against the broad chest, face tucked into the crook of his shoulder.  “Didn’t you say you wanted to protect your loved ones?  Maybe it’s not the way I would have done it, but you protected them, right?”  He felt the breath of Loki’s answering snort against his neck.

“They didn’t want it.  I still don’t know why it’s good when Thor does it, but bad when I do.  Thor tried to kill all the Jotnar, and he is brave, a hero.  I nearly achieved it, but it’s further proof of my ergi.  And because of my ergi, who would even listen when I worked to protect Midgard from danger?  Certainly not the All-Father, who was only interested in recovering the Tesseract.  I was irrelevant, as was the treatment I received at the hands of the Chitauri, and the proof I had of my intentions.”  The dark head remained buried beneath his jaw.

“Hey, hey there.  I’m listening, right?  But you didn’t tell me anything about the Chitauri.  I’m guessing they weren’t up for any humanitarian awards”  He held Loki close, almost petting the soft hair, the smooth wool of the jacket.  

“Thor said they mourned me for dead.  I was suffering, and they were holding yet another Asgardian feast.   I wasn’t even shielding myself.  Odin and Heimdall could see what was happening.  And they did.  You knew the name ‘Chitauri’ - From Thor, I presume?”   Steve nodded.  “I did not speak it once I came here, fearing to trigger an Asgardian intervention.  The only way he could know it is if Heimdall, Odin, or both were aware of my condition and did nothing.”

Steve found himself confused again.  “But, if your goal was to protect Earth, why would an Asgardian intervention be a bad thing?”

At last, the face appeared from beneath his chin, sporting a school-teacherish look.  “Where Asgard intervenes, she tends not to leave.  Midgard has been the exception, and even then, Odin seemed to keep it as a sort of dropping-off place for inconvenient artifacts and princes.  I want to keep Midgard interesting.  And I wanted to make the Chitauri believe that Earth could defend itself on its own.”

Steve couldn’t decide whether he wanted to hold Loki close for trying so hard, or shake him for not even attempting to get willing allies.  In the end, he simply caressed that sharp jawline as he said, “You don’t always have to do everything alone, Loki.  If we’d known what was coming,  we could have prepared without you having to be the fall guy.”

The school-teacher look intensified.  “Captain Rogers, you don’t know the full story.  The original plan was not the one you averted.  The original plan did not involve the precise timing that allowed you to learn the enemy first and then  defeat a portion of the fleet.  It involved the fleet you just saw arriving along with the small party that came before for a full-scale assault on Earth.  They were meant to blame the failure on me underestimating your power and to seek revenge on me rather than continue with their plans.”

“You said they... treated you badly.”  Suddenly, Steve had a vision of every Hydra facility he’d ever invaded and was nauseated.   He ran a finger along the slim neck, fighting an overwhelming urge to fold the Jotun into his arms and never let go.  The treacherous thought that here was someone who wouldn’t grow old or die on him had snuck in without his full awareness.  To realize that half-born hope was already in danger squeezed at his heart like a vice.  “Why would you court their... revenge?”

Loki rolled his eyes.  “I told you, I failed to calculate Odin’s possessiveness into the equation.  I’d intended to use the power of the Tesseract to trap them in a pocket dimension, where they could do nothing.  Now, I am down to my personal power to defend this realm.  And my... acquired assets.  I have been preparing, you know.”

“Loki, you don’t need to do this alone.  I... I don’t want you to do this alone.  Let me call in SHIELD, the Avengers, this time with some understanding of what we’re up against before it just comes knocking.  Be our ally, so we can be yours.  Hell, call up Agent Coulson and tell him.”  Some part of Steve realized he was shamelessly begging, but he just couldn’t find it in himself to care.  “Please.”

“Then what?  I’m still technically a fugitive from justice, however laughable that concept may be on Asgard.  I believe most of this planet calls me a war criminal.  The myths of this realm, just as much as the court of Asgard, brand me Lie-Smith, Mother of Monsters, God of Lies and Mischief.  Who believes a known liar?”  The smirk was a little too fixed.  

“And then I tell people about the fleet I saw in space, and we prepare.  How long do we have?”  Steve felt his heart sink when the smirk didn’t so much as flicker.

Then Loki sighed, caressing Steve’s jaw.  Even as he drew his face into the severe lines of a lecturer, his eyes were tender.  “So brave, so trusting.  You mean the image I showed you with my magic.  Agent Coulson at least attempted to figure out where they were, but they are still too far and too isolated for even your most advanced technology to detect, so to answer your other question, a few months at least.  A year or two, at most.  I cannot imagine that Stark will be terribly impressed.  Especially when he decides that your judgement is... compromised.”  He raised an eyebrow and gestured to the arm still resting about his shoulders.

The mention of Coulson had sent his heart beating faster for sheer joy, quickly dashed by the realization that the rest of the team would not understand everything that had happened as the train sped through the darkness.  He hadn’t even really registered several stops and now wondered where they were, how much more time they had left before this, too, somehow slipped from his fingers and was gone.  Looking through the window, his heart sank.  The unending flatness of the plains had given way to looming, undulating hills.  They had reached Pennsylvania and dawn was perhaps an hour or two away.

A few months would give him time to confront Fury about Agent Coulson, time to ask that master agent how to begin preparations for the larger invasion to come.  But tonight didn’t have much  time left.  He stood, tugged at Loki’s shoulder.  “Come on.  I have no intention of being caught like a couple of kids at a double feature.  I have a room.”

Loki shot him a look at once amused and questioning as he rose to follow the soldier.  The dining car already hummed with activity as the attendants set it up for breakfast.  Slipping through quietly, they received soft greetings and sleepy smiles, before facing again the sucking wind of the connection between the cars.

Arriving at the room first, Steve noted with bemusement that the two seats had been transformed in his absence to a sort  of narrow bunk.  Well, nothing like efficiency, right?

He sat down on the end away from the thin looking pillow, and smiled up at the suddenly less certain looking God of Mischief.  “Come on in to my closet.  I actually wasn’t expecting the bunk.  If you want, I can try to figure out how to turn this back into seats, or you can do  that muscle freeze thing to me again, if I get out of line.”  The smile became a boyish grin.  “Come on.  You know you can’t resist making a mortal do your bidding.”

The answering grin was perfunctory.    Clearly, Loki’s mind was elsewhere... until suddenly it wasn’t.  He glared at the blonde.  “If you ever repeat this to anyone else, I will sew your lips shut with unbreakable thread.”  His eyes lifted past Steve to gaze out the window at the passing dark hills, along with whatever industrial building they were passing.  “I’m no virgin.  I think it would be impossible for a prince to reach my age in that state.  Women were not only available, but expected.  Even I did not go so far to prove my argr state as refusing to celebrate with the others after successful adventures.”

The intelligent eyes laughed as he continued.  “And I’m certainly not complaining.  There are some advantages, after all, to being even the second prince.  But, as I said before, life in a palace is very... open in many ways.  Just as it was impossible to hide my magical studies completely, I knew that any... unusual adventures would be noted.  So, while I am not without experience...”

Steve took the hand that was resting on the narrow ledge beside him and gently kissed the knuckles.  “So, women, but no men?  Okay.  Tell me, show me what you want.  Some things are out of reach in any case, because we... well, we’d need stuff we don’t have, so I imagine you’re familiar with most of what we can do, anyway.”  He searched the Jotun’s face carefully before continuing.  “And Loki?  This, I’m honored.”

Loki narrowed his eyes for a moment before removing jacket  and tie, gesturing them to wherever he kept things, then sinking gracefully to the other side of the bunk.  Steve watched the movement hungrily.  He leaned in, running broad hands over the smooth, crisp linen, turning his head to place a kiss along the sharp jaw.

An unmeasured time passed in exploration and rich sensation.  Soft sighs and gasps filled the cabin as hands and mouths wandered over new territory.  Shirts were loosened and finally discarded.  Steve began to slip his hands under the waistband of the smooth wool when Loki caught his wrists.  “Rogers!  I... I... you should know something first.”

Color banded Loki’s cheeks as the soldier carefully slid his hands up and left them resting on smooth skin over the narrow hips.  “Anything you need, just tell me.”  The stern face was furrowed with the effort of holding back.

“Configuration, it’s... my glamour has concealed my differences all my life, but...”

A breath released the built up tension.  “Okay.  So this is your first time with a man and my first time with a Jotun.  We’re reasonably smart.  We can figure it out.”  Steve spread his arms to  the side after slipping loose the buttons from his fly.  “I would love it if you chose to explore me.  I want to explore you, but I don’t want to upset you.  So you set the pace.”

“If you want, I can make myself more... normal.  After all, I did for centuries, most of them without even knowing myself.  I just  thought you might... well, when you said... but I didn’t ask...”  

Steve found a bubble of warmth forming as he listened to the normally smooth and sophisticated former prince stumble over his words.  He knelt up and caught the slender jaw between his hands.  Leaning forward, he planted tiny kisses between each word.  “I. Want. You. However. You. Want. To. Be.”

The words, the kisses seemed to unleash something within Loki, who closed his eyes for a moment before they were both infused with golden light for a moment, then unclothed completely.  During the brief disorientation, Loki pushed forward, sprawling Steve against the hard mattress.  Steve blinked a moment in surprise, then grinned, skimming a hand down the long line of torso, hip, thigh.  He brought the other up to brush against a hard, pink nipple.

Loki sighed into the touch, lowering his own head to briefly suckle at the blonde’s shoulder.  Shifting his weight onto the broad chest below him, he sifted a hand through the ordered waves of hair, mussing them.  Steve enjoyed the solidity of that lithe body, the feel of those dancer’s muscles against his own.  He could do this all day.

As Steve explored with deep strokes and light, teasing touches, Loki settled against him, the firm solidity of their erections sliding across each other teasingly.  Urgently, unable to wait longer, Steve snaked a hand between their bodies, seeking that point of contact.  Loki paused, rigidly still.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, it’s okay.  Just... exploring, right?  Tell me to stop, bind me, because I want this.  I want you.”  He could hear the rasp in his own voice, the urgency, and squeezed his eyes shut.   He needed to  find control before an enraged Jotun did bind him.  Or worse.  

A cool whisper against his ear would have been inaudible if every nerve wasn’t straining, yearning for the faintest sensation.  “Take me.”  

Steve groaned, his cock jumping at the words.  A deep breath, slowly released.  “We can’t.  We don’t have-”

His words stuttered to a halt as long fingers wrapped around his wrist, guiding his hand down, past the point he’d been seeking, to feel silken folds part at his touch.  An adventurous finger was encased in pulsating wet heat, and he groaned low in his throat.  “I said, ‘take me.’ Now.” The soft growl by his ear seemed to reach directly between his legs.  

A moment, an undulation later and he was seated within the Trickster, his own broad hand  still slick with juices, now wrapped snugly around the erection before him, breath caught in panting gasps. “Ah, ah, Loki, please-” Whatever he meant to ask, beg for was gone as internal muscles rippled.  The Jotun’s eyes were round with wonder, his lips softly curved in an internal smile.

Steve arched off the bed, the fingers of one hand digging into the slim hip as he watched revelation unfold in that expressive face.  Oh, yes... yes.  “Yes, oh god, yes... so beautiful, so damn beautiful.  How...”  His tongue felt heavy, clumsy as he babbled at the vision riding him.    So he twisted his hips on the upstroke just as Loki was grinding down, pressed with his thumb along the bottom of the cock in his hand, felt the tension build in his belly just as he heard a low moan escape the beauty, Loki, atop him.  Fighting back the wave of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him, he watched the dark lashes flutter closed, the mobile lips part and the long throat convulsively swallow as he felt the internal muscles grip and he was lost, senses overwhelmed by crashing pleasure.

A long moment later, he noticed the wetness along his belly, the heavy weight of the body atop his own.  Harsh breaths were slowing, gentling, settling back into a familiar rhythm.  As the sound of his  own heartbeat faded into the now-soothing mechanical sounds of the train, Steve looked up to notice the first glimmerings of daylight through the windows, a faint light cutting the darkness, shading the sky a shade of grey just a little lighter than before.  Damn!  

Without conscious thought, he moved his arms to enfold Loki, to hold the mercurial trickster a moment longer as though, like Joshua, he could stop the sun’s motion, prevent the passage of time.  Only when Loki squirmed uncomfortably did the supersoldier realize how tight his grip had become.  “Do you mind explaining to me why you are attempting to crush the breath from my body?  Is this a Midgardian custom I’ve not previously encountered?”  The acid tone was muted, flavored with the pleasant lassitude that permeated the air in the tiny room.

Steve flushed.  “I don’t want today to come.  Everyone, all the people I knew before, they’ve moved on, grown old, died.  Some of them didn’t even get the chance to get old, but just died.”  He felt the tight ball of loss gather once more in his gut.  “Today, you’re going to leave, too, and... and I don’t want that, okay?  It’s going to happen whether I want it or not, and I know that.”  He turned his face to the curtained door, rebelliously refusing to even look at Loki.  “But I don’t have to like it.”

Cool fingers caressed the line of his jaw, brushed the waving hair back into its usual neat arrangement, then gripped the stubborn chin, tilting it back to face up, as Loki moved to kiss him.  Echoing Steve’s earlier action, Loki placed tiny tiny kissses between his words. “I. Do. Not. Plan. To. Leave. You.”  He moved to end with a final kiss, but Steve twisted out from under him, almost falling, certainly stumbling to his feet in the narrow space between bunk and door.  He didn’t turn but addressed himself to the door.

“Don’t lie to me.  Just... don’t.  You don’t plan to stick around, go to gallery openings, go dancing at the club I just heard about that plays swing, Hell, maybe just go sit and have a drink together.  You’re planning some suicide attack on the Chitauri, and you won’t even trust me enough to tell me about it.  So don’t tell me you plan to stick around.” Tears stung at the corner of his eyes, as he heard the choke in his own voice.

He nearly flinched at the feel of a hand laid against his back, the silken voice tinged with some suppressed emotion.  “I thought you, at least, would welcome my protection for your world.”  

The anger, the loss inside him roared at this twisting of his intent.  Taking a deep breath, he fought it down, and released the tension on a sigh.  “Loki, you’re part of my world.  Don’t protect me by shutting me out.  Just... Let me be part of yours, okay?  If you’re going to fight the Chitauri, tell me about what you’re doing so I can help.”  Needing Loki to see, to realize, he turned abruptly around.  “I don’t want to lose you, too.”

Seeing the lost look in those green, green eyes, he knew they had to draw  back from the emotional edge they were teetering on.  He forced  light humor he was a million miles from feeling into his voice.  “Besides, who else will force me to eat goat cheese?  Then demand I have my wicked way with them?”

The feral grin Loki sent him in response was a relief.  Sarcasm and practiced smiles meant the trickster was once more master of himself.  “Ash-aged goat cheese.    Clearly, whoever wants to feed you properly will also have to educate you on the food.  Since the job has currently fallen to me, perhaps we should begin our next lesson.”  He stood and waved a hand at the bunk, transforming it neatly into two benches once more.  Another wave, and both Loki and Steve were cleaned up and dressed.  “And I believe it is I who has wicked ways.  Or so popular rumor would have it.”

The soldier flashed his own grin.  “Yeah, well, what do they know?  Popular rumor had me a hero back when all I did was hang around chorus girls and make hokey speeches.  Popular rumor once had it that Irish kids would grow up to be drunkards and thieves.  Now, there’s a huge Saint Patrick’s day parade.  Popular rumor can change.”  

He reached down to unfold the table from the wall, but a long hand caught his shoulder.  “I will summon all we require.  This table is too large.”  Steve looked up to see a sensual smile on the lips of the trickster.  A gesture summoned a small table to Loki’s side.  From the laquered top, he selected a tidbit, and brought it to Steve’s lips.  “Air-dried beef wrapped around chive and mushroom chevre.”

Steve leaned forward to take the single bite from the long fingers. and found the hand on his shoulder had come up to cup the nape of his neck.  The salty rich taste burst on his tongue.  The fingers ruffled the short hair behind his ear, just before those strong, strong hands lifted him onto Loki’s lap.  “You see?  If we had used that table, we would not be nearly so comfortable.”  The smug confidence in the cultured voice made Steve all the more aware of his own position.

Swallowing the bite in his mouth, he opened his mouth to say something, but felt a small cup against his lower lip.  He brought  his own hand up to grip the thin wrist.  “Loki, um, what are we doing?”

A momentary irritation surfaced in the long planes of that pale face, quickly replaced by a deliberate boredom. “Eating breakfast?  This is a cup of cloudberry melomel, and I have an oatcake with alder smoked salmon and fresh herbs.  I believe I said I would feed you in a fitting fashion.  But if you must eat like a peasant at this hour, I could no doubt take some flat ale and rusks from one of Asgard’s kitchens.”

“No, I mean...” He gestured between them, indicating his own position on Loki’s lap, the hand still holding the small cup.  “Why are you feeding me?”

The former  prince turned his face to look out the window at a smooth river reflecting yellow lamplight in the grey morning outside.   “I am accustomed... In Asgard, it is a symbolic act for a man to feed his lover.  It shows his ability to provide, to conquer. As a prince...”  The face twisted slightly in self-loathing.  “Though after what has passed between us, perhaps it is I who should be upon your lap, waiting to be fed.”

But Steve had already leaned  forward, lips parted, releasing the wrist.  “I am yours to feed this morning.”

As dinner had the previous evening, breakfast took hours, passing quietly as they watched the broad, smooth river contract into a fierce mountain stream, and eventually disappear. Slow, sensual kisses passed between delicate bites of a wide variety of foods, skillfully arranged.  Steve listened as Loki explained each bite, each sip, and eventually turned it into a mutual sharing, each lifting morsels to the other’s lips.

In time, they noticed a broad river churning swiftly beside them as forest opened into grass covered hills.  The return of civilization reminded Steve that this was soon to end, and so he pulled the curtain closed, sank his hand into the smooth raven locks and lost himself in Loki’s mouth.

* * *

Steve stepped from the train, walking along the tracks to the doors leading into a bustling station, where Tony was waiting, a large blue case at his feet while he talked into a phone and typed on a small computer.  Inwardly, Steve writhed, unsure how to answer any questions the engineer might pose about his train ride.  He needed to talk first with Fury, then Coulson, and finally he could begin figuring out what to do about the impending Chitauri invasion.  

Somewhere in there was the unspoken hope that he’d have to figure out what to do about a certain snippy Norse trickster with fussy tastes and a reluctance to communicate with possible allies.  But for now, Tony was here and the fundraiser was in less than two hours.

As he smiled and stepped forward, however, he felt a small hand on his arm, and turned to face a stranger.  Well, almost a stranger.  The petite woman was fashionably dressed in an emerald sweater over a black wool skirt and expensive boots. She was stunning.  Familiar intelligent green eyes tooked out from an oval face dusted with golden freckles and topped with a wild mane of curling flame red hair.  

Full lips curved in a razor smile, “Hey, soldier.  I think you forgot something.”  A small hand slipped itself into his, handing him his cell phone, as the other hand came up to the back of his neck, drawing him into a kiss.  A brief brush of the lips and she was gone, absorbed into the crowd.

“Wow, Cap, I was gonna ask how the train ride went, but I guess you found a way to pass the time.”  Tony’s face  was amused as he handed off the blue case.  “Any chance she’s got a sister?”

As Steve fell into step beside his friend he felt the buzzing that signalled a text message.  Absently, “No, just a big brother, I think.”  Looking down at the phone, he saw that somehow, Loki had already placed a picture of his female form on the phone, along with a number and the name Kelli.  

The text itself made him smile as Tony moved on with the conversation.  “Hey, there’s this dim sum place in Chinatown we should check out, but we’re in a hurry, so Happy got us take out tandoor sandwiches.”

The text said, “Meet me on the train to NY.”


End file.
